


Fire Meets Gasoline

by Reddragon1995



Series: Some Fires [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Breakups, Drabbles, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Heartbreak, Modern AU, college sweethearts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26625403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reddragon1995/pseuds/Reddragon1995
Summary: A collection of drabbles inspired by prompts, set in the AU of Some Fires Don’t Go Out.
Relationships: Daenerys Targaryen/Jon Snow
Series: Some Fires [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936948
Comments: 34
Kudos: 313





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr, a little series of drabbles that track Dany and Jon’s relationship. Not chronological. Just playing in this sandbox a bit more.

The night turned chillier than she thought it would, as she stands shivering at the hotel entrance, watching cars pull up to the valet kiosk, luxury SUV’s and imported sports cars and a limo or two. But there’s no sign of him. She fidgets as she checks her phone. The ceremony starts in five minutes. She’s tried to stay calm, but the annoyance that had been simmering all day has combusted into full blown rage.

She should’ve known.

It’s just the way he is. Unreliable, head up his own ass most of the time, and utterly thoughtless. But she allowed herself to look forward to it anyway. She combs through their conversations over the last couple of weeks as well as she can remember. He did promise, didn’t he? 

Did he?

She’s so pissed off, she can’t even think.

And the kicker is, she looks  _ amazing,  _ if she does say so herself. She’s never been an ugly duckling by any stretch, but she’s made a conscious effort since she hit puberty to downplay her own beauty. It always made her uncomfortable when someone mentioned it, and as she went through school, people made certain assumptions about her because of it. When she lets her hair down, it nearly hangs to her waist in beachy silver waves. Her eyes are a unique blend of aqua and green, but sometimes look violet blue depending on the light; she’s petite but strong in her stature, and has a smile that would make an orthodontist proud. But she’s still shy, and tries not to draw much notice. So she’d hoped to surprise him with her look tonight, the flirty red cocktail dress and strappy silver heels that add at least four inches to her height. She had her hair and makeup done at the salon. Her nails too, even though they feel alien to her, and she had her eyebrows waxed for the first time in her life, the Mother save her. Her aim was to knock him on his ass. To make him realize that he wants her as much as she wants him. 

They’ve circled each other for a while. They’ve flirted, hung out, even kissed a few times after that one party at Stokeworth House, before she passed out drunk. He’s so wrong for her. Everything about him. He’s irresponsible and arrogant and spoiled and reckless, but underneath it all is a beautiful soul, a lost boy, full of anger and grief, but an equal measure of genuine sweetness and hopefulness, and she’s the walking cliche who thinks she can change him.

Her phone buzzes and her heart skips, but it isn’t him. It’s just Professor Quaithe warning her that they’re getting started.

_ Fuck him then,  _ she seethes, and she turns on her heel and goes inside.

______________________

  
  


She leaves as soon as her portion of the ceremony is over, empty handed except for a small gift bag, and makes her excuses to Professor Quaithe. She doesn’t feel like dealing with the usual rabble on public transit, but it’s too far to walk in these ridiculous shoes, and too cold, so she catches the train back to campus. It’s fully dark when she arrives, and walking alone makes her nervous, but luckily she has her whistle and pepper spray firmly in hand, and the dorm isn’t far. There are blisters on the bottom of her feet by the time she makes it to the entrance. She scans her pass and makes her way into the vestibule, when she happens to see inside the common area. 

Her heart falls.

He’s there at the elevator with that girl Alys from the fifth floor. She’s from the North like him, and they’re all in the same communications class, and Alys has made her attraction no secret, and of course he basks in the attention. She’d be a sure thing, no doubt, and it looks like Jon might be taking her up on her offer, as he stands there with her arm around her waist while her hand cups his ass. Fuck he looks great in those tight jeans. But this wasn’t where he was supposed to be tonight, and tears of jealousy spring to her eyes. Instead of going inside to the elevator and having an awkward encounter, she takes the stairs.

___________________________

  
  
  


She dreads going to class Monday morning. Principles of Modern Design. It’s usually for second years, but there was space for her and two other first years, Jon included. They’re in the same program, and that means she’ll probably have to spend the next three and a half years seeing his face every day. 

At least she doesn’t have to sit beside him. She picks a seat in the back of the classroom, and she knows that since he’s always late, there’s not much chance he’ll be able to sit with her, as the other students begin to trickle in. They give her strange looks even though there is no assigned seating. She just shrugs and pretends to check her emails on her laptop. What she is actually doing is checking Alys’ social media accounts, and on each of them she gushes about a cryptically “great night,” with heart-eyed emojis abounding. Dany hasn’t quite grasped emojis just yet, but this isn’t hard to figure out.

Professor Quaithe enters the room at 9:00 sharp, and the chatter subsides. Jon isn’t there yet, of course. He probably decided to cut today. But why should she care? She takes her studies seriously, it’s his problem if he does not. The professor takes a dramatic swig from her coffee mug as she arranges stacks of papers on her table, then she perches on the table top, legs crossed, notes in hand, her preferred teaching posture.

“Before we get started, I have an announcement to make,” she begins, but is interrupted by Jon opening the door. 

Dany’s cheeks flush at the sight of him. She tries to ignore him, but she notices his apologetic glance at their instructor, then his eyes surveying the room behind his glasses as he notices that she isn’t sitting in her normal spot. She lowers her eyes to her laptop screen before he spots her. 

“As I was saying,” the Professor continues, “I think it’s important for young and aspiring designers to be acknowledged when it’s due, and one of your classmates has accomplished something quite impressive.” 

Daenerys wishes she could shrink away. The last thing she wants today is extra attention, even if she is proud of herself. But Professor Quaithe doesn’t perceive her discomfort, and informs the class that Dany had been amongst four student finalists honored at the Design and Architecture awards over the weekend, and although her design for the renovation of the common room of Velaryon Hall was not ultimately selected, it was nonetheless a major feat for a first year design student. Her cheeks burn red and she can feel Jon’s eyes on her most of all, but she wills herself not to acknowledge him. The class applauds her, though there is some whispering and laughing from a group of second year boys on the other side of the room. They can fuck off with their mediocrity and envy as far as she’s concerned.

Soon things settle and the class drones on. When they’re dismissed, she exits as fast as she can, though she hears Jon calling after her. She ignores him and keeps walking, but it doesn’t take him long to catch up with her.

“Dany, hold up,” he pants. 

“I have class.”

“No you don’t.”

She does stop, but won’t look at him.

“What do you need?”

“Do you...d’ya wanna go grab a coffee? I’m not even really awake yet.”

She wants to punch him. Is he really that oblivious? 

Yes. Yes, he is. But he still looks like a young god in those jeans that sit just perfectly at his hips, and his black t-shirt, and his dark curls falling in his eyes. She wants to lick him, he’s so delicious. But she has to get hold of herself.

“I can’t,” she says. “I’ll see you later.” Then she leaves.

_________________________

He spends the day trying to think of what he can do to make it up to her. As soon as he saw her in class, sitting in the back of the room instead of their usual spot, the realization hit him, like bricks dropped on his head. He prayed for a minute that he just got his wires crossed, but when the professor made such a show of things, the guilt was suffocating.

They’d talked about him going to this  _ thing  _ with her. He knows it took all her courage to ask him. As confident as she is in her intelligence and talent, she’s a bit socially awkward. She hasn’t dated a lot, not that it was really a date. Deep down he knows that she was hoping for some moral support. Someone to be proud of her for something, with her family so far away. But in truth the whole thing made him feel mediocre, and since he’s felt second rate most of his life, he’d rather not invite more of that. And then he got distracted by Alys, and the promise of casual sex, though he left her early the next morning and hadn’t responded to her texts since then, because it felt wrong. He’s hooked up with a few girls on campus, but Daenerys is the one he can’t quite get his arms around, no matter how much he wants to. It’s like he’s afraid he would corrupt her. He knows he isn’t good enough for her, even though she’s obviously into him, or was. Now, who knows?

He knows her schedule by heart, which is not normal, but he does. On Mondays she does work study in the afternoon at the campus art gallery, then she usually heads to the cafeteria for dinner at six. He doesn’t know of any big exams or assignments coming up, so she should be back in her room now. He hopes her roommate isn’t around. She usually stays at her boyfriend’s flat off campus, so chances are good. He recognizes one of the girls from Dany’s floor and charms her into inviting him up as her guest so he doesn’t have to jump through the hoops at the security desk. Thank the gods for small favors.

By the time he reaches her door, his heart is pounding. He knocks three times, and waits. He knows she’s in there, because he can hear music, and he knows she’s probably looking through the peephole right now, deciding whether to let him in, and he’s startled when the door opens.

“Hey,” he says sheepishly, but she says nothing. “Mind if I come in?”

“I’m busy.”

“Oh.” He tries to play it cool though he feels anything but. “Listen, I’m sorry about the other night.”

She flings the door open then, and grabs his shirt, pulling him inside, and it excites him a little, until her small hands push against his chest, and his back strikes the door knob.

“Ow!”

“You’re sorry?” she seethes. Her eyes are like stormclouds and her skin is flushed. “You broke my heart and all you can say is ‘sorry’?”

He’s taken aback by this outburst. Daenerys is usually pretty even keeled. He knows he disappointed her and hurt her feelings, but being heartbroken over this seems an extreme reaction. 

“What do you mean? I get that you’re pissed and maybe embarrassed but how could I have broken your heart?”

She pushes him again. “You’re such an idiot, Jon!” He can’t argue with that. “I stood outside waiting for you for so long, I nearly missed the ceremony. And when I got back here, I saw you with Alys? You blew me off so you could fuck Alys, like you couldn’t do that any time?”

“So what is it, that I stood you up, or that I fucked Alys? What is it?”

She groans in frustration. “Both, dumbass! I guess she’s the sort of girl you prefer, huh? Not someone who….Someone who….”

“Dany,” he says quietly, lowering his voice as he puts his hand on her shoulders. “Someone who what?”

“Forget it.”

“No. Someone who what?”

Without realizing it, they’ve inched closer to each other, so close their chests almost touch, and his grasp on her arms has softened, and his thumbs brush her shoulders, and he sees the tears she’s fighting to contain. And it hits him. He doesn’t just like her, and he doesn’t just want to get her in bed.

“Someone who what, Dany,” he whispers, and her tears start to flow.

“You should leave,” she mumbles.

“Probably.”

Then he kisses her, tentative at first, but it quickly intensifies, and she has her hands in his hair and is pulling him in to her, her tongue brushing his first. He’s so hard, if it doesn’t cool off soon he’ll come in his pants, and he nearly does when her hand cups his groin. There’s a sudden boldness about her, and she pulls back from him, her eyes saying what she cannot in her breathless fervor. She lets go of him, stands back, and takes off her shirt,, then eases her bra straps down her arms. He’s not sure what to do. He’s been in this position with other girls, he’s had plenty of sex for someone his age, but he feels like an untried boy in the moment as she’s getting naked in front of him. He hopes this isn’t a dream, but when she takes his hand and guides it over her tit, it feels real enough. His knees are weak, his heart pounding. He’s never wanted someone this much.

He loves her, and he’s pretty sure she loves him. 

She walks them backward, guiding him to her bed. She carefully lies down and pulls him atop her. He’s sweating and nervous and hornier than he’s ever been. He tries to think if he has a condom (he usually does). He wonders if she’s ever done this before. When he kisses her again, and she winces as he slips two fingers inside her, his question is answered.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks her.

Her eyes are glazed with lust. “I’m sure.”

But he’s not. Because what comes after? As much as he wants her, he can’t make her another notch on his bedpost. She deserves...more. He hedges, and she pulls back and sits up. She slides her hand to his lap.

“Do you need me to….”

“No.” He closes his hand over hers, and gives his mightiest effort to keep his eyes off her bare tits. “Have you….have you done this before?”

The blush on her cheeks tells him all he needs to know.

He clasps her hand. “I have to tell you something. I like you, Daenerys. You’re not like the girls I just hook up with. I like you more than I’ve liked anyone in a really long time and I….I just don’t feel right, bedding you before we’ve even had a proper date.”

“Bedding me?” Her eyes flash with bewilderment. “What century is this Jon? I don’t need you protecting my virtue, oh noble knight.”

He chuckles, and she does too, which relieves him.

“Listen, I want to have sex with you. I  _ really _ want to have sex with you. Like I’ll probably go back to my room and have a wank thinking about it but….could we just...slow it down? If we do this, I want to do it right.” He can’t believe this sudden, preternatural maturity that’s gripped him, this attack of conscience, but here he is. Maybe it’s a step in the right direction.

Daenerys sighs, and he watches her cautiously, trying to read if she’s embarrassed or angry, or relieved. She worries her bottom lip with her teeth as she gazes up at him.

“Can we go out this weekend? No parties, no crowds, just us?”

A smile stretches across his face. “Absolutely.” he says, and he kisses her again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany breaks up with Jon

She can tell the flat is empty before she unlocks the door. There’s no sound from the TV, no cursing at a video game or football side, no music, no light. Her arms are full of Dornish takeout, her laptop case and purse slung over her shoulders, and fiddling with the lock is cumbersome, but she makes it inside and flips on the overhead light.

Her heart falls.

It’s not that she’s surprised, really. But she’s had a particularly shitty day at the office, and as she surveys the small living space, it’s obvious that he did approximately none of the things she asked him to do before she left that morning. If anything, he’s made it worse. Snack wrappers litter the end tables, dirty dishes are piled in the sink, and laundry is strewn about. The neat freak in her is apoplectic. The girlfriend in her is just disappointed. 

She knew she should’ve taken Irri up on the offer to go out for a drink. Anything to keep from coming home to him. Because he’s been unbearable ever since he dropped out of the internship program. He’s lazy and aimless and grouchy. He’s unappreciative, and, if she’s not mistaken, jealous. He always seems to be itching for a row. And more and more lately she’s taken the bait.

But she thought this morning might mean they’d gotten over this hump. She woke to the very pleasant sensation of him going down on her, then they fucked in the shower (no easy feat considering the shower stall was the size of one of those old phone booths). Unfortunately, she’s come home to more of the same.

She’s so tired of it all.

She lets the laptop bag and purse fall from her shoulder to the floor. She carries the takeout to the kitchenette. There’s no note on the counter to tell her his whereabouts, just some half-consumed beer cans and a big spot of milk that’s probably been there since he had his cereal that morning. Tears burn hot in her eyes. She is ready to break some shit. Work wasn’t the best today as everyone was stressed over an important deadline, and she just seemed to be in the way. Her bus pass wouldn’t scan and she didn’t have any cash. And her mother had called, armed and ready with passive aggressive comments and intrusive questions, which she could do without any day. And now this. She doesn’t want to talk to him, but she’s furious that he isn’t there.

She can’t find a clean bowl, so she eats her lamb and rice from its paper container, but it isn’t satisfying. She looks for room in their tiny fridge, but of course there is none, because a jar of tomato salsa wasn’t closed properly, and has spilled everywhere. She refuses to clean up after him, so she just chucks the rest of the food, his included, in the bin. She decides to check her emails, but it takes no time to realize that she left her laptop charger at the office, and the battery has died. No problem, she’ll just use his. It will only take a second. She sinks into the desk chair and opens the internet, then clicks the envelope icon in the corner.

She doesn’t mean to snoop. That’s not who she is. She’s not a jealous, possessive crazy person. But she finds several emails from “Ygritte.”

So, she reads.

______________________________

It’s close to ten when he opens the door, and he knows he’s in for it. He let time get away from him. She hadn’t texted him to demand an explanation, which meant she must be exceptionally pissed. But he understands that whatever she has to say to him, he’ll deserve. Things have been off kilter lately, and it’s all on him. Because anything good that happens in his life, he manages to fuck up. He should probably see someone about that.

The flat is dark, but he knows she’s there. 

“Dany?” He flips on the light, and is taken aback to find her sitting on the sofa, still dressed in the clothes she left in that morning.“Hey,” he says carefully. “Sorry. I should’ve left a note. I met up with Sam….”

She just shrugs. “It doesn’t matter.”

He can tell she doesn’t believe him. It isn’t exactly a lie. He did see Sam earlier. But then….

_ What the fuck am I doing?  _

He’s asked himself that question several times this evening.

Nothing happened, exactly. It was only dinner. Then a drink. Then a walk and a good conversation, reminiscing about all the trouble they got up to in high school. She did put her hand on his leg, and for a minute he thought he might kiss her. But he didn’t, because he couldn’t do that to Dany, and because he knew what this was. He’d reconnected with his ex a few weeks ago on Instagram, and there was some flirty banter, but mostly she made him feel a little better about himself. Didn’t make him feel like a disappointment, like everyone else in his life did. Dany didn’t mean to. She didn’t berate him or nag him. She just did her thing, and refused to be a directionless slacker and a quitter like he was, and it drove him batshit, because it made him believe that she deserved better.

She does deserve better. He’s always been like this. It’s not going to change, because he doesn’t know how. He’s a man-child, and probably always will be. And Ygritte seems to like that about him.

He approaches his girlfriend and sits beside her on the sofa. Her coldness makes up for the lack of air con. He kisses her on the cheek, but she stays stiff. Then he glances around the room and sees the mess he’s left that he didn’t bother to clean.

“I’ll just get this tidied up…”

“Whatever.”

“Dany….”

“I’ve called Irri from the office. She’s on her way. I’m going to stay with her for the rest of the summer.”

It’s like a knife in his heart. Because he knows she’s not doing this over a mess. He’s provoked and provoked, and there’s only so much anyone can take.

“Daenerys, come on. I’ll get it cleaned up. And I’m sorry I didn’t call….”

“Oh fuck off with your apologies Jon, shit. I don’t give a fuck about a messy flat.”

Not true, but he’ll allow it.

“Then what?” he demands.

She stands and coolly strides to the computer desk, where she flips his laptop open, and he knows. He’s been found out. His mind races to formulate a passable excuse.

“I hope you and Ygritte had a wonderful time this evening,” she says in that emotionless tone that belies exactly how pissed off she is.

“It wasn’t like that…..”

“I don’t care what it was like, Jon.” She closes the computer. “I don’t care about you meeting that horseface for dinner. I don’t even really care that you tried to bring Sam into your lies. I just can’t do this anymore. I’m not happy. And this summer is too important to me to let a bad relationship ruin it all.”

Tears fall from his eyes “It’s not all bad,” he insists. “I know the last few weeks haven’t been great, but….I love you. And you love me.”

She just blinks at him, and a horrible realization hits him.

“Do you? Do you even still love me?” he asks.

Her phone buzzes and he assumes it’s her friend, signaling that she’s come to the rescue. It’s confirmed when she gathers up her overnight bag, laptop case, and purse. She unhooks her key from its ring and places it in his hand.

“I’ve already paid Mr. Seaworth my half of the rent, so you just owe yours for the month. Don’t let him screw you on the security deposit. You can send my half in the mail when you get it.”

“Daenerys, wait,” he begs.

“I have to go Jon.”

“Dany…”

“I’m not going to say I’m sorry,” she tells him as she opens the door to leave. “But I hope you’ll figure out your shit some day.”

And she closes the red door behind her, and walks out of his life as if she was never a part of it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little fluff

“Open it.”

“You first.”

  
“No,” she whines. “I’m too nervous.”

  
Jon rolls his eyes. “Are you actually trying to pretend you won’t get it? If anyone should be nervous it’s me.”

  
She squeezes his arm reassuringly. “You impressed the old man.”

“But not the son,” he argues. “And he’s the one who makes the decision.”

“Mr. Mormont wasn’t unimpressed.” She kisses his cheek. “And you didn’t mean to spill your coffee on his shoes.”

“Maybe I did. Didn’t like the way he looked at you.”

She cuts her eye at him and he withers. “If I’m selected it’s because I deserve it, not because of the way I look.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” He sheepishly kisses her hand. Sometimes she makes him feel like everything he says is wrong. But then, it usually is. He feels better when her face softens and she smiles again.

  
His girlfriend - it’s still surreal to him that he can call her that - shoves him playfully. “Let’s open them at the same time then.”

  
He really doesn’t want to. As sure as he is of her, he’s equally unsure of himself. He would have never applied for this internship if she hadn’t pushed him. (Nagged. She nagged). He only enrolled in university in the first place because his parents expected it. But has to admit it has its perks. As much as he doesn’t care about Ancient Valyrian Literature or the Pre Conquest History of Westeros, he’s realized that he likes this design thing. He always has. Some of his Lego creations from childhood belonged in a museum. He wants to build things so grand, they’d put the Wall to shame. Outwardly, he may seem like a privileged tosser who won’t have anything to worry about after graduation because he can always go work for his dad, but he actually does have dreams of his own. Dreams that, increasingly of late, include Dany.

She makes everything worth it for him.

She holds her breath as he counts to three and they tear into their envelopes. He takes his time unfolding the letter inside his while she pops hers open. He’s so smitten as he sees her bluish eyes sweep over the words, then her lips stretch into that full, megawatt grin he loves so much, and she shrieks.

  
“I got it!” She bounces up and down. “I got it, I got it....” 

  
Her smile slowly fades as she finally pulls out of her stupor to observe him, letter in hand, expression somber as he reads. Hesitantly, she touches his knee.

“Oh, Jon...”

He looks at her ruefully, watching as her eyes flicker with concern, then sadness, then, perhaps, guilt, and he knows he can’t keep it up, and his frown slowly curls to a smile as he hands the letter to her.

“I’m in.”

  
For a split second she’s pissed, but then she looks ready to cry with relief. She throws her arms around his neck. Her hair smells so good, and holding her brings all the comfort of freshly baked cookies and a warm blanket. He closes his eyes and wraps his arms around her waist and hugs her close.

  
“We did it,” she squeals. “We did it! This is so fucking huge, baby!”

  
He could make an inappropriate joke, but doesn’t. “I know. Now I think we’re due for a road trip to the KL.”

  
She pulls back, her eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Why?”

  
“To find our summer home, of course.”

  
“You mean.....us, living together?” it doesn’t make him feel great that she looks terrified. “That’s.....that’s quite a commitment....”

“It’s for the summer,” he reassures her as he sneaks his hand under the hem of her top and rubs her back. Suddenly his heart is pounding. “But I guess it could be for longer, if you wanted.” 

Her eyes saucer. “Really?”

  
Jon puts his hands on her shoulders and nudges her back a little, so he can see her face.  
“Aye, really. We’re graduating next year. Our future will be our present before we know it. I don’t wanna go back to Winterfell, to my folks. I want a fresh start.” He slides his hands down her arms and entwines their fingers. “I’m in love with you, Daenerys. Have been for years. Seven hells, I wish we could live together already.” 

  
He isn’t surprised when tears slip down her cheeks. But he is relieved. He’s seen all manner of her tears since he’s known her. He’s caused the vast majority of them. And these are good tears. Happy ones. And he feels his own starting to well.

“That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me,”she whimpers. Then she kisses him, soft and sweet at first, but he flicks his tongue across hers in the way he knows gets her hot, and she responds, grinding down on his lap, guiding his hands to her tits. “I love you too Jon.”

“So, I think a congratulatory blow job is in order,” he teases, wagging his eyebrows.  
She kisses him again and tugs his bottom lip with her teeth. “I think we both deserve congratulations.”

  
He grasps her waist tight, and before she can react, he has her on her back, and he’s lowering her zipper. Her wicked smile is a jolt to his dick.

  
“I think you’re right.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An outbreak of a virus on campus spoils Dany's name day plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got inspired to write this because of Emilia's birthday. Because she's the best and I was concerned that the current COVID restrictions might have thrown a wrench in her plans. Happy birthday to her, and happy headcanon name day to Daenerys

This certainly isn’t how she expected to spend this day. It’s supposed to be a special one. Her twentieth name day. Most of her life, she hasn’t made a big thing of it. She’s the youngest of three children, for starters. So most years it was just her mom and brothers and a supermarket cake, and a doll or a new jumper shoved in a gift bag, or an envelope of money when she got a bit older. Only on her thirteenth had her family made any fuss at all,throwing her a surprise party. She had her first kiss that night, with a boy named Rakharo who was the only kid in her class shorter than she was. She remembers how awkward it was; how his fingers were sticky with cheese puff powder, and how his braces poked her lips. She remembers the hip hop music thumping in the background, and the unease about Doreah and Xaro, who were gathered in a corner with the popular kids, whispering and giggling. She remembers Viserys rolling his eyes and sniping about having to supervise a bunch of lame middle school children. 

She remembers waking up in the middle of the night, and throwing up everywhere, because he spiked her punch with a laxative. 

Her brother was always a supreme asshole. But she misses him, and her other brother Rhaegar, and her mom, and even her old uncle Aemon who lived with them until he had to be put in a rest home.

She’s not sure why it’s hit her so hard this year. She’s in her second year of university. She’s lived on campus the entire time. It’s not like she’s homesick. It’s not like her name days are ever sentimental. She just feels lonely today. Abandoned. 

It’s silly. It’s not like it could be helped. She lives in a dorm. Things go around, and there’s been an outbreak of a virus on campus that killed her plans. Actually, almost everyone’s plans. Classes are cancelled, activities postponed, and frustrated students are holed up in their rooms, idle and bored. They can still come and go for “essential” purposes, but there isn’t much of a point in it, as anything that would have tempted crowds to congregate is shuttered anyway. 

Her roommate Mya, and Talisa from her Valyrian III course, and Jeyne from work study were supposed to have a girls night out. It usually wasn’t her thing, but they squawked about it like a flock of hens for weeks, and after she relented, she started to get excited. In truth she needed the morale boost. This year hasn't gotten off to a great start. Mostly because of Jon.

She had to ask herself what relationship was worth feeling sad over as often as she felt happy. It seems like they can never get through more than a few months without something coming between them. She knows she’s in love with him. She knows he feels the same. She knows they’re young and immature, and she’s pretty sure they’ll move past this current rift. But she’s less sure than she was a month ago. 

When she fell out with him over the summer, she decided she was going to try to make some friends in the coming year, so she’d have someone to hang out with besides him. It’s good for women to be friends with women. It’s good to have a well-rounded life not completely revolving around a guy. Mya was always inviting her out, and she finally started saying yes. Then she invited Talisa and Jeyne along, and before she knew it, they’d all formed a tight little group. Then this outbreak shit happened, and instead of dinner and clubbing, she’s in her room alone. This virus has been a nasty bitch. Mya got so ill, she actually had to go home with her parents. Talisa and Jeyne are on campus, but basically quarantined. They’d texted their well wishes, and promised her a great time when everyone recovers. And sure, her mom and brothers all rang her. But she still can’t help feeling a bit sorry for herself. A bit forgotten. Lonely and depressed. 

And she still misses Jon.

A knock on her door startles her. She can’t imagine who would need to see her. Who’d risk the wrath of the prefect?

“Who is it?” she calls.

“Delivery for Ms. Targaryen,” replies the muffled voice on the other side.

Weird. She thought deliveries were supposed to be left at the front desk. She creeps to the door, stands on her toes, and looks through the peephole. 

All she can see is a huge bouquet of blue flowers.

She smiles, in spite of herself.

She’s supposed to be mad at him.

When she opens the door, her caller is gone, and there is a lovely crystal vase with a dozen winter roses at her feet. She bends down and picks them up. She inhales and the memories flood her.

She’d never seen winter roses before, but then she spent two weeks with him in the North over summer break. It started off well enough, though it was clear his family didn’t approve. In fact, it seemed like some of them - well, his mother and sister - went out of their way to make her feel unwelcome. They didn’t need to bother. She wouldn’t have fit in anyway. 

He hadn’t really been honest with her about his family. To put it mildly, they’re loaded. Jon claimed his dad was the cheapest millionaire who ever lived, and it was obvious Ned Stark didn’t invest much in himself. But that didn’t stop him from following his wife’s whims when it came to buying cars or properties or clothes or anything else she thought proved their status. Dany did get some satisfaction though, because wealth didn’t mean good taste. She’d never seen such tackiness or superficiality in her life. So two weeks with the Starks were enough to make her realize she couldn’t spend two weeks more, and when she left earlier than expected, claiming a family emergency, it caused a fight with Jon. They didn’t speak for the rest of the summer, and since returning to campus almost two months ago, they hadn’t really reconnected. But the bouquet in her hands hurled her back to that night when they snuck into the greenhouse. Those same frost blue roses had been in full bloom, fragrant and lovely, and the sex they had on the table, well….

And she ruined it. Looking back, she let his family get to her more than she should have. They obviously wanted to get a certain reaction from her, and she fell for it. She doesn’t care so much about the bad behavior of spoiled rich people, though. What really hurt was that he didn’t have much to say in her defense, and instead of talking it out with him, and telling him what was bothering her, she just let it build until she couldn’t stand it any longer. Still, he should have stuck up for her, and he didn’t. And he should have known what she was walking in to, but he didn’t warn her. It’s like he threw her to the wolves, then looked the other way. Maybe it was all a joke to him. Who knew?

But how could it be if he turned around and did something like this?

She places the vase on her desk and opens the card.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
  


Her hands tremble as she holds her phone in front of her face. The ringtone is grating. She’s breathless while the call connects, and his face appears on her screen. He’s wearing his glasses, and it looks like his hair is wet. She can tell he isn’t wearing a shirt. He must have just got out of the shower. He’s so handsome, and her cheeks burn. She wishes she could see more of him. She imagines his chiseled torso and strong biceps and round ass. Her mouth waters at the visual. She really doesn’t know what to say.

He breaks the silence with a grin. “Hi there, gorgeous.” His accent is so sexy. He sounds a bit hoarse, and she hopes he’s not sick too.

“Hi,” she replies shyly. “I um...just wanted to thank you for the roses.”

His smile widens. “Anything for you. And Happy Name Day!”

“It was yesterday.”

“I know.”

“You remembered.”

“Of course I remembered.” He shoves his glasses up on his nose. It’s so cute. It makes her stomach turn somersaults.

They talk for a bit. It’s awkward at first, especially when he tries again to apologize for her disastrous stay in Winterfell. She has to acknowledge that it wasn’t all his fault. She could have been more assertive, with all of them. She shouldn’t have taken it out on him.Thankfully they fall back into conversation with ease, and it’s like they haven’t spent the last three months ignoring or avoiding each other.

Before she knows it, it’s 2:00 a.m. Her eyes are heavy and her throat is dry and scratchy. She hopes it’s just from talking. He’s getting a bit slap happy himself, giggling like a kid with an attention deficit disorder at the silliest things. But it’s contagious.

It’s the best day after a name day she’s had in years.

She swallows a yawn, and he does too. They really need to sleep.

“Jon,will you sing me a lullaby?” she sighs.

He nods. “Absolutely. But only if I can kiss you good night.”

“Well then,” she purrs, “You’d better come over.”

“I’ll be right there.”


End file.
